


the quality of memory

by princesskay



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Up until Vacaville, their relationship had been on fairly stable ground, a secret collection of moments of touch and longing, an equal balance of give and take. Such equality seems unattainable now that Bill had seen him flattened in a hospital bed, had carried him home, had chided him on the plane ride home ... He wonders now if he can only extend himself towards Bill the way Ed extends himself towards Holden - thoughts that have the quality of memory but that are nothing more than a visceral daydream.The night of Shepard's retirement party, Holden tries to put Vacaville behind him - but he's left wondering where he and Bill's relationship now stands.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	the quality of memory

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as an an answer to this prompt on from anonymous on tumblr: "holden riding bill until it's too good and he's too exhausted that his shaking legs give out, so bill lays him down and they continue like that with holden's legs still trembling and weak (for a while afterwards too. walking to the bathroom? forget it until morning holden.) bonus points for bill coming inside of him and some sweet aftercare because i live for that." It got way longer / more emotionally involved than this prompt suggests lol but I love the direction it went so thank you for the inspo, whoever you are 💛💛💛

_ Dear Holden,  _ the card reads. Always familiar, just like the rest of the notes hanging like trophies on the wall of Bill’s vacant office. Holden can hear Ed’s voice in his mind, the articulate cadence, the intimacy like that of an old friend. 

_ Dear Holden.  _ Almost caring. 

Holden momentarily closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he can see Ed towering over him.  _ Why are you here, Holden? I don’t know.  _

He’d put off reading this latest card all day, uncertain whether the missive might give him closure or another panic attack. Did Ed draw great pleasure from watching him bolt like a scared bunny, no more composed than some of his small, female prey? Did he enjoy watching an FBI agent run for his life? Or was he simply disappointed that the visit he’d carefully manipulated into reality came to such a swift, jarring halt? 

Holden opens his eyes. There’s a small tremble in his hands that’s slipping into the cheap paper of the card that says “Get Well,” and has a watercolor drawing of a flower bouquet embossed on the front. 

There’s no one else in the basement. Wendy and Gregg left half an hour ago, and Bill packed up his office and went over to annex. He’s alone, no one to see him breaking down over the contents of a sympathy card. 

_ Dear Holden, it seems that your long-awaited visit didn’t play out to either of our satisfaction.  _

Blunt. Honest. Regretful. That last note might be a crock of horseshit. Ed doesn’t regret anything. Remorse isn’t an emotion he’s capable of, but he’s good at faking it because Holden feels a pang in his own chest. 

_ I was sorry to see you leave so quickly and with such consternation; however, you recognize now the honesty that exists between us, I think. The honesty that I myself have always offered you but that you had not extended to me until that moment. I do see you, Holden, as you see me.  _

Holden pauses, his stomach sinking. He stares down at those words written in Ed’s clean, neat cursive:  _ I do see you.  _ The irony that he’d used a pen to get to Holden the last time, though in a much different way, strikes Holden in the gut. Now that he’s been exposed, all his fragility and insecurity laid bare, he doesn’t need to fly all the way to California to feel like Ed can sense his trembling alarm.

_ I hope that I haven’t scared you off, as I explained to you that so few people in my life have ever listened to or understood me. I hope that we are still friends, and that you will visit again soon once you are well. These days, I will think of you often - positive, warm thoughts that have the quality of memory.  _

Holden glances up sharply when the door swings open, and Bill strides across the basement. 

“Oh, hey. I didn’t think anyone was still here.” Bill says. 

“I was about to leave. What are you doing?”

“I just left some things in the file cabinet.” Bill says, waving an absent hand at his vacated office. His brow furrows as he notices the card in Holden’s hands. “Is that from Kemper?”

“Get well.” Holden says, flashing the front of the card. 

Bill scoffs, “Unbelievable. He’s gloating, isn’t he?”

“Apologizing. In his own way.”

“Right. So gloating.”

Holden musters a hapless smile and a shrug. 

“You gonna hang that one up too?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” Holden says, tossing the card on his desk. 

Bill’s expression sobers as he nods, his gaze silently yet critically assessing Holden’s face and posture. 

The truth boils in Holden’s stomach, nausea and self-doubt, bile and dread. He wants to stand up and ask Bill what happens now between them. Up until Vacaville, their relationship had been on fairly stable ground, a secret collection of moments of touch and longing, an equal balance of give and take. Such equality seems unattainable now that Bill had seen him flattened in a hospital bed, had carried him home, had chided him on the plane ride home. _From now on, it’s my rules. When I tell you to shut your mouth, you shut your mouth_ \- as if Holden is no more than a wayward child. Not a lover, but a subordinate, one who has clearly lost his way and needs correction. He wonders now if he can only extend himself towards Bill the way Ed extends himself towards Holden - thoughts that have the quality of memory but that are nothing more than a visceral daydream.

Holden stays rooted in his chair, and Bill turns and goes into his office to retrieve the folders from the filing cabinet. He says a polite “goodnight” on his way back out the door, leaving Holden alone with Ed’s note and disappointment opening up in his belly. 

He opens the card again, and the last line strikes him:  _ I know you will think of me, too.  _

~

A week later, Bill finds Holden sitting on the curb in front of the dining hall at Shepard’s retirement party. The jovial tinkle of piano music and laughter drifts across the yard, melding into the steady whir of crickets to create a blanket of white noise in the back of his mind. The Valium is humming in his veins, producing that dazed effect that makes him long for his bed, but he can’t move from his spot beside the quiet street. 

“I thought you left.” Bill says, drawing Holden’s gaze up from the asphalt between his feet. 

“No.” 

“Are you feeling alright?”

Holden rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, trying to massage away the lingering misty haze and the feeling of drugged, numb disconnect. The scrape of Bill’s lighter is loud against his quaking senses, and he smells the smoke before Bill sits down on the curb beside him. 

“Did you know?” He whispers. 

“Know what?”

“That Shepard … the reason he’s retiring - it’s because of me.”

Bill glances over at him, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth with a grimly bemused expression. 

“Well, what did you think was going to happen? The OPR investigation would get swept under the rug without any consequences?”

“I don’t know.” Holden whispers, turning his gaze back to the street. 

“The FBI is a greased ladder of bureaucracy and bullshit. If you aren’t feeling the heat it’s because someone else is.”

“I tried to take responsibility.” 

Bill is quiet for a moment, the faint singe of his cigarette burning rippling just beneath the dull roar in Holden’s mind. 

He shifts a harried glance to Bill, desperate to make that notion stick between them. Bill’s gaze is turned away from him, but he can see the skepticism in the clench of his jawline. 

“I did.” He whispers, more firmly. “I told OPR it was my idea to alter the transcript, that I asked Gregg to do it, that it was my fault.”

“What do you want me to do, Holden?” Bill asks, his eyes cutting back to him with a flare of annoyance. “Pat you on the back? Your choices have consequences that affect other people, not just you.”

“At least acknowledge what I’m saying. That you were right.”

“Right?” 

“You told the OPR that you question my comportment as a federal agent.” 

The crickets swell in the silence, and a slight breeze rattles the leaves along the tree-lined drive. The air has that summer sweetness that had been euphoric in childhood, but now has the saccharine perfume of rotten fruit. Bill is looking at him in a way that’s unrecognizable - not regretful for that honesty, but resigned to it. 

“Maybe that was harsh.” Bill says. 

“You don’t have to lie. Look what happened. And now Shepard hates me more than ever.”

“Is that really what you’re worried about? He was never your biggest fan.”

Holden shakes his head, and averts his gaze toward the end of the street. Despite the warmth of the breeze, he’s shivering underneath his jacket, a cold sweat lining his armpits. The soothing heat of the Valium is fading away. 

Bill clears his throat, and climbs to his feet. 

“Come on. The party is pretty much over. Sitting out here pouting isn’t going to do you any good.” 

Holden presses his eyes shut, his stomach turning. “I don’t think I can drive myself home.”

“Why not?”

Cheeks warming, Holden slowly looks up at Bill. “I … I took some Valium.”

Bill’s brow furrows, concern bleeding past his stern exterior as he crouches back down beside Holden. 

“It happened again?”

Holden nods, biting at his lower lip. 

“Jesus, Holden.” Bill says, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he glances away. 

“I know.” 

Bill sighs through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry; but you said if I needed anything …”

“Yeah. Come on, then.” Bill says, taking him by the elbow. 

Holden rises shakily to his feet, leaning into the strong grip of Bill’s hand. 

Despite the frustration rippling across Bill’s face, he doesn’t retrieve his grasp on Holden’s arm until they make their way down the street to where his car is parked. 

Holden climbs into the passenger’s seat and sinks down against the cool, leather upholstery with a muted sigh. 

Bill rolls the window down as he pulls away from the curb, dispelling ashes from his cigarette out into the night air. He doesn’t say anything while he drives them towards Holden’s apartment; his gaze is fixed on the road ahead, his features reserved, hard lines that quiet any notion of conversation. 

Holden sinks lower in the seat, fighting a wave of self-pity. He should be grateful. Despite his behavior with OPR, he isn’t losing his job or their achievements within the BSU. Professionally, he won’t have to pay for any of his mistakes. By anyone’s standards, he got off almost completely scott-free, but he can’t help but think of Shepard, Debbie, Wendy, and most of all, Bill. Ed said  _ I see you _ , and is he the only one that still does? 

Once they reach his apartment, Bill parks along the curb. As he throws the gearshift into park, he casts Holden an expectant gaze. 

“Are you going to be okay from here?”

Holden takes off his seatbelt and sits forward, bracing his hands on his knees. Longing niggles against the back of his neck, breaking past the Valium daze, and he figures he doesn’t have anything else to lose. 

“Do you want to come up with me?” He asks. 

Bill’s brow furrows with alarm. “Holden, I … I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“It’s fine if you don’t.” Holden says, quickly, “I’m just offering.”

Bill sighs, his eyes squinting toward the road. Between them, he’s never been one for self-control. Those rough edges that came through on the plane ride home from Vacaville had once been applied in another manner, a more satisfactory one - the bruising grip of his hands pushing Holden down into bed sheets, the powerful drive of his body thrusting into him, threatening to break him in two, the smothering clutch of his lips turning Holden’s mouth raw and swollen and overflowing with moans. Now, he seems hesitant, as if such an encounter could shatter Holden like a fragile porcelain doll, and Holden resents it. 

“Okay, that’s fine.” Holden says, grabbing for the door handle when Bill doesn’t reply, “I get it.”

Climbing out onto the sidewalk, he marches into the cool, summer breeze that whispers against the agitated, humiliated flush on his cheeks.

Not so long ago, just the implication that he was open for a hook-up was enough to have Bill scrambling to follow him, no further persuasion needed. Perhaps he’s ruined everything, his own skewed sex drive and Bill’s. He’s ruined his desirability. Who wants to fuck someone who is just as prone to a panic attack as an orgasm at the very touch of another person’s fingers on his body? Certainly not Bill, with all his masculine hunger, the necessity of his satisfaction, the propensity and presupposition of it. When he knows what he wants, he gets it. Holden only wishes he could say the same of himself. 

When he reaches the other side of the street, Holden pauses to blink away the sting of tears before pulling the door open. Just as the door begins to swing shut behind him, the hinges come to a rattling halt. 

“Holden …” Bill says, his voice ragged from a quick jog across the street. 

Holden turns to gaze at him, his chest seizing with astonished exhilaration. Bill leans in the doorway, his expression taut with conflicted tension and underlying need. 

“You changed your mind?” Holden asks. 

“Yeah. I’ll come up for a minute. I can’t stay long.” 

Holden represses a smile. “Okay.” 

Bill follows him into the building in silence. They both listen to the rumble and click of the elevator as they ride up through the floors, the tension elongating into a dull hum just underneath the ordinary sounds.

Holden peeks a glance over at Bill’s stern profile highlighted by the stark, white overhead lights, and something visceral and chaotic turns in the pit of his stomach. He could blame it on the Valium, but the pills have never done anything but sedate him. He doesn’t feel sedate or calm; he feels reckless, searching for the edge of the world to jump off of - or to at least forget his worries for one night. 

Holden leads the way down the hallway to his apartment, feeling Bill’s gaze quietly returning the searching intuition along the back of his neck. Unlocking the door, he slips inside, and lets Bill in behind him as he has so many times before - only this time, they’re not immediately groping and kissing the moment the door shuts behind them. 

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got beer in the fridge.” He says. 

“Sure.” 

Holden leaves Bill in the living room to retrieve the beer from the fridge. When he comes back, Bill is seated on the couch with his jacket discarded over the nearby chair. With his loosened tie and his knees spread at a relaxed angle, he’s like a burly finger pressing down on the loaded trigger of Holden’s quaking needs. 

Drawing in a steadying breath, Holden crosses the living room, and offers one of the beers to him. 

“Thanks.” Bill mutters. 

He takes one sip before setting the bottle on the coffee table where it dribbles condensation. 

Holden shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. 

“Are you going to sit?” Bill asks, nodding at the cushion beside him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

Holden tries to force himself to sit down naturally, but he ends up perched rigidly on the edge of the cushion with the beer cradled on his knees.

“You’re right.” He says, quietly, peeking a glance at Bill. “I don’t care about what Shepard thinks of me.”

Bill’s eyes narrow skeptically. 

“Well, I do care. I just … His opinion isn’t the only one I care about. It’s not as important to me as …”

Holden glances away, pressing his eyes shut. He feels like a babbling idiot, too overwhelmed by this position that he’s cornered himself into to form a complete sentence. 

“Holden,” Bill says, his tone firm against Holden’s quivering composure. 

Holden looks up, slowly. 

Bracing his elbows against his knees, Bill steadily meets his gaze. “Look, I know this is difficult for you to hear, but I was being honest with OPR. After Speck and Devier, I was concerned even if I didn’t want to be; and then you had to go and prove my point by walking out on your meeting with them and flying off to California to visit Kemper. I don’t think less of you, I just-”

“You don’t?” Holden echoes, a scraping laugh rising in his throat. “How can you not?” 

Bill’s jaw clenches. 

“You’re disgusted, aren’t you?” Holden whispers, setting his beer on the coffee table with a forceful clink. “At the very least, turned off. Why don’t you just admit it?” 

“Is that what this is about? Whether or not we’re going to keep having sex?”

“Yeah, Bill. It is something I’ve thought about. And don’t try to tell me you haven’t thought about it either.” 

Bill sighs through his nostrils, and rubs a hand over his forehead. 

“Is that really what you should be focusing on right now?”

“I’m not fragile. Or out of control, or completely lacking in judgment, or whatever it is that you think.” Holden says, rising to his feet. 

“I don’t think that.”

“Really?” Holden echoes, “So you’re saying you still respect our work - the work we created together - at the same level that you always have?” 

“What do you want me to say?” Bill demands, sudden anger flashing in his eyes. He jumps up from the couch, taking a threatening stride closer that makes Holden stumble backwards. “I saw you lying in that hospital bed, Holden. I listened to that doctor tell me how they had to sedate you for  _ days.  _ I had to think about you going there - letting him fucking touch you.  _ Willingly _ .”

They both stop, staring back and forth at one another while discordant, trembling breaths fill the silence. Bill’s eyes blaze with enraged, jealous fire for a few suffocating moments before he looks away, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw. 

“Fuck …” He mutters, sounding disappointed with himself. “I just … I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

Holden’s gaze drops to the floor as he tries to process what Bill had just said. It hadn’t ever occurred to him that Bill might be more angry about Kemper than OPR, that he might be more disgusted by the thought of a man like that touching Holden rather than panic attacks and pills. He hadn’t realized he prefers this kind of jealous rage over anything else Bill could have thrown at him right until this moment. 

“I did go willingly.” He whispers, slowly lifting his gaze from the carpet. “But I … I didn’t let him touch me on purpose. I didn’t want that.” 

Bill’s gaze moves from its distant, burning spot on the wall back to Holden’s wide-eyed, imploring gaze. His mouth ripples with a frustrated quiver as the admission sinks in. 

“So he did.” Bill says, at last, his brow furrowing. “Touch you.”

Holden swallows hard. “He, um … he hugged me. That’s when I ran.”

Bill nods, his hands bracing against his hips. 

“Do you really think I would want that?” Holden whispers, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

“No, I … I didn’t mean that.”

“I was just angry. He always listened to my ideas.” Holden says, lifting his shoulders helplessly. “Believed in me.”

“Been your friend?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, I hope this experience has relieved you of that notion.” Bill says, jabbing a frustrated hand at Holden’s wavering stance. “He’s a murderous asshole, Holden. He only cares about himself. And he got exactly what he wanted out of you.”

“I know.”

“Good.” 

Holden lowers his head, ashamed heat returning to his cheeks. 

“I don’t want to think about him anymore.”

Bill is quiet, his weight shifting with agitation. Holden’s gaze gradually sweeps up his body, the soft lines of his waist and belly, the wide set of his hands on his hips, the rise of his broad chest, his shoulders looking indestructible and secure. If Bill held him now, it wouldn’t feel anything like Kemper’s arms around him - but that’s still too much to ask for their private relationship which had been purely sex-driven up until this moment. He’ll have to settle for what he can get, for what he knows Bill wants from him.

“I don’t want him. I want you.” Holden whispers, his hands clenching anxiously at his sides. 

Bill’s tongue darts against his lower lip as his chest rises with a clipped breath. “Holden-”

“You want it, too. You wouldn’t have come up here with me if you didn’t.”

Bill opens his mouth to protest, but Holden turns and walks down the hallway toward his bedroom. His hands are shaking as he goes straight to the nightstand, and yanks the drawer open to locate the Vaseline. 

The creak of a floorboard in the hall draws his gaze over his shoulder to where Bill hovers in the doorway, his expression strained with mounting need. 

Holden sets the Vaseline on the nightstand firmly, and unbuttons the front of his shirt. Bill watches quietly as each fastening pops free and the garment slips from Holden’s shoulders. He doesn’t start moving until Holden unzips his trousers, letting them crumple to the floor; then, he breaks away from the hallway, and closes the scarce distance between them in just a few strides. 

Catching Holden by the hips, Bill kisses him brusquely with the clash of hungry teeth against tender lips, the push of his tongue breaching Holden’s moaning mouth. As his mouth devours Holden’s, he clutches at Holden’s backside and groin. 

The heavy-handed petting makes Holden shudder and clench with need, his cock throbbing hard against the flagrant, fleeting touch hampered by his briefs. Moaning into Bill’s mouth, he pushes his thumbs under the waistband and shoves the fabric out of the way. The briefs float to his ankles where he kicks them away, eager to have Bill’s hands on his naked body. 

Their mouths break apart with mutual groans of need when Bill’s hand gathers Holden’s bare, pulsing cock. Their foreheads meet, gazes tripping downwards to watch the rhythmic stroke of Bill’s hand going up and down the swollen shaft. 

“Fuck …” Holden whispers, clutching at Bill’s shoulder as his knees go weak. “Bill …”

Bill’s other hand spreads over his ass cheek, gathering ample flesh back so that his fingertips can slip inward against the warm, puckered cleft. The dry, coarse touch grinds against Holden’s hole, coarsely threatening to slip inside with no lubricant to ease its passage. 

Holden bites back a moan as he twists away from the paired sensations of Bill’s hand on him, quickly getting him hard and longing for climax. He takes a stumbled step backwards, pinning Bill with a defiant gaze. 

Bill takes a lunging step towards him, confusion knitting his brow, but Holden puts a hand on his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Bill asks, his voice choked with impatience. 

“I …” Holden begins, faltering into a raspy whisper before he emboldens his response. “I want you to get undressed.”

The surging desire in Bill’s eyes slows to an anticipatory crawl as he absorbs Holden’s request. 

“Get undressed.” Holden repeats, and turns his chin towards the mattress. “And lay down.”

Bill hesitates only a second longer before giving a clipped nod. He pulls his tie off over his head, and makes quick work of the buttons. 

Holden strips out of his t-shirt, the last bit of fabric standing between him and skin-on-skin friction, and stands back to watch Bill get to that same stage. He bites his lower lip to suppress a choked sound of need when Bill’s trousers drop, and the swollen state of his cock fighting against his boxers becomes readily apparent. 

Bill takes off his undershirt, and drops his hands to the waistband of his boxers. He holds onto Holden’s gaze, letting the moment simmer before he carefully peels the fabric back from his erection. The boxers come away slowly, slipping from his hips to reveal the full length of his hard, pulsing cock and his swollen balls hanging heavily below. 

Holden plants a hand against his chest, pushing him back towards the bed. 

Bill complies, dropping to the edge of the mattress with a grunt. He gazes up at Holden with murky blue eyes, his hungry needs leashed and lunging just behind the facade of calm. He grips the edge of the mattress as Holden turns to retrieve the Vaseline from the nightstand. 

“Lay back.” Holden murmurs. 

Bill swallows hard, looking like he wants to argue, but he reclines back against the duvet. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Holden says, as he crawls onto the bed, and straddles Bill’s thighs. 

Bill frowns up at him. “Do you now?”

“Yes.”

Bill suppresses a grunt as Holden settles on his lap, balls coming to rest up against his own. 

“You can’t get the thought of him touching me out of your mind.” Holden whispers, unscrewing the lid of the Vaseline and tossing it aside. He dips his fingers into the ointment. “It’s eating you alive - the thought of him breaking me for good.”

Bill’s tongue darts feverishly against his lips as he watches Holden’s fingers dip into the Vaseline, pumping a few languid times to ensure they’re generously slick. 

Holden sets the jar aside, and leans forward to brace his hand on Bill’s chest. He tucks his slick fingers behind him and locates his cleft. 

“I’m not broken, Bill.” He whispers, his voice tangled up in a groan. 

Bill clutches at his hips, fingers dipping in with bruising force. “Fuck … Holden-”

Holden moans as his finger presses into his hole. The first, uncomfortable weight of it makes his body clench, but it quickly adjusts to the intrusion as pleasure rushes through him, white-hot and paralyzing. 

“Ohhh…” Holden gasps, his mouth sliding open. 

He peers through half-shut eyes down at Bill’s clenched expression of barely controlled need. Pumping his finger in more forcefully, he bows forward with a tremble of arousal. His back arches, leaning back into the decadent pleasure of his asshole being worked open, submitting to his own eager touch. His body is burning with irreverent need, longing for the moment when Bill’s cock replaces his fingers, when he sinks down on it and swallows it whole.

“Jesus …” Bill pants, softly. 

His gaze darts between Holden’s smitten expression of pleasure and the rhythm of his hips working back against his fingers. He staves off the burgeoning need for a moment longer before reaching over to swipe the jar of Vaseline from the bedspread. Dipping trembling fingers into the ointment, he pushes up onto his elbow to insert his wet fingers into the languid penetration of Holden’s touch. 

Their mouths collide sloppily, and Holden accepts both the brutal strike of Bill’s lips and the push of his fingers. Clutching Bill’s shoulder with his free hand, he arches back against the competing, slick strokes of his and Bill’s fingers. They slide against one another, nudging and searching at Holden’s opening until the taut pucker relaxes enough to let them both push inside. 

“Oh, fuck …” Holden moans, his head spinning with a dizzying rush of satisfaction at the doubled invasion. 

His body clenches as both fingers force their way inside, momentarily pulling in opposite directions before finding a matched rhythm. Bill’s broader finger cradles his own, guiding the pace and depth, unrelenting, not easing up even as Holden shudders and crumples against his chest. 

“Fuck …” Bill whispers, his breath hot against Holden’s ear, “That’s good, baby. You’re so fucking tight.”

Holden gasps as the erotic whisper is paired with the forceful thrust of Bill’s hand over his own guiding both of their fingers deeper inside. He arches on Bill’s lap, trying not to twist away from the powerful sensations threatening to tear him apart. He’d claimed he wasn’t fragile or broken, and he means to see this through to the end - if only Bill’s slightest touch would stop taking him apart so quickly, if only he wasn’t so dependent on the satisfying moments when his body submits entirely, gaping to Bill’s tongue, fingers, and cock. 

“Come on, that’s it.” Bill urges, his voice raspy yet soothing against Holden’s nape. 

Holden buries his face in Bill’s neck as he keeps going, rocking his hips back into the thrusting of their hands, matching the pace of Bill’s finger with his own. Gradually, the taut clutch of his hole eases, muscles melting into eager relaxation and waiting to be entirely fucked open. His and Bill’s fingers plunge into his lax, soft body with ease, producing a wet noise that makes Holden shiver with anticipation at the thought of Bill’s cock taking their place. 

Bill’s hand slows down and Holden follows the lapsing pace until they’re both grinding in and out, rhythmically, taking solo turns sliding into his hollowed out open. Holden whimpers and shudders against Bill’s chest, his body melting down into need that he’d meant to fortify if only for a few minutes. He doesn’t want to collapse, but Bill is making it difficult not to. 

Slowly, Bill’s pumping finger grinds to a halt but stays buried inside the lapsing hole alongside Holden’s finger. He applies gentle pressure in the opposite direction of Holden’s hand braced against his tailbone, dragging him entirely open. 

“Oh, fuck …” Holden gasps, his entire body shivering as he feels the last of the resistance in his body melt away and his hole stretch open.

“God, I want you.” Bill whispers against his ear, raspy and desperate. “I want to fuck you so hard.”

“No.” Holden chokes out, forcing himself to lift his head from Bill’s shoulder. He draws in a deep breath, and casts Bill a stoic gaze. “No. Lay back down.”

Bill’s brow knits and his teeth press against his lower lip in distressed longing. 

“Fuck, Holden-”

“Shh.” Holden murmurs, pressing a kiss to Bill’s protesting lips. “Lay back. I’m going to ride your cock.”

Bill draws back, his mouth slipping open in a needy gasp. 

“I’m going to ride it long and hard.” Holden murmurs, trailing fingertips along Bill’s jawline and wet, dangling lips. “Until I come.”

Bill sinks back against the sheets, his hands urging Holden by the hips to get that promise closer to completion. 

Following the guidance, Holden leans forward and grasps Bill’s cock to guide it up against his hole. They both moan at the first collision of needy flesh, the tender ache exploding into intractable, unbearable longing for the divine friction of joined bodies. Holden eases down slowly, letting his body adjust to the thick girth of Bill’s cock, letting them both boil over with desperation while his hole sucks it down one inch at a time.

“Jesus, fuck-” Bill groans, his head tilting back and his hands clutching at Holden’s hips. 

“Oh my god …” Holden whispers, bracing a hand against Bill’s chest to keep himself upright as the sensation hits him hard, right through the middle, threatening to level him.

He slides all the way down, seating himself fully on Bill’s cock; he can feel it pulsing inside of him, down to his depths, wanting to tear up through his belly if it could. He grinds down against it, enjoying the overwhelming sensation, and watching as consumed pleasure shifts across Bill’s faces in tense winces and staggered gasps. 

“Fuck, Holden .. you feel so good.” He moans, urging at Holden’s hips in a bid for friction. 

Holden utters a moan as he tentatively rocks his hips in a few shallow strokes that make Bill groan deep in his throat. His fingers flex around Holden’s hips, coaxing him into a faster rhythm that Holden resists. Instead, he rotates his hips down against Bill’s submerged cock, offering only a slight grinding motion that gets the pressure seated firmly against his budding prostate. 

“Oh, God …” Holden moans, his eyes squeezing shut against a flash of pleasure. 

He reproduces that feeling again and again until he feels it bubbling up inside him, that need luring his hand towards his cock. Resisting, he straightens over top Bill’s prone body, and digs his knees into the mattress. Lifting his arms over his head, he tangles his fingers in his hair to stop their itching for a quick climax. 

Below him, Bill whispers a quiet praise as he peruses Holden’s body seated on top of him, his back arched in divine pleasure, his hard, pink cock on display between his straining, thrusting hips. Both hands pet at Holden’s hips before feeling their way upward, past his belly quivering with barely controlled need, soft skin stretched over heaving ribs, and to his hardening nipples. He rubs his thumb over one stiff nub of tender skin, sending a spark of sensitized pleasure down Holden’s spine and into his groin. 

Holden frowns against the distracting sensation, but he doesn’t try to bat it away as he continues steadily riding Bill’s cock. He’s located the perfect rhythm, just enough friction to satisfy them both while Bill’s cock stays nestled against his prostate, gradually working him over at languid, agonizing pace. 

The pleasure simmers a low boil, teasing him with aching quivers deep inside and vagrant tingles sweeping in and out of his groin. When he presses his eyes shut, his mind is full and loud, a competing blackness threatening to douse the rising flame of need. He can still see Vacaville plastered across the back of his mind, Ed’s dark eyes staring down at him, the weight of his arms curling around his body like a straight jacket.  _ I do see you, Holden. I know you will think of me, too.  _

Biting at his lower lip, Holden suppresses a tortured groan. Despite Bill’s cock inside him, the thoughts keep rising and rising, threatening to burst from the cramped confines of his mind; and he wishes he could stop thinking for once, just for a few minutes. 

Opening his eyes, Holden peeks down at Bill’s body trapped underneath him. He focuses on his face, the pleasure written in his eyes and into the tension of his jawline. He focuses on the pressure of Bill’s cock inside him, the thick weight of it, the raw push of skin against skin soothed just enough by Vaseline but aching nonetheless. 

As the sensations begin to eclipse the din of his thoughts, Holden shifts into a faster pace. 

Bill gasps, staring up at Holden’s body poised on top of him with a smitten gaze. He rocks his hips up into the swallowing grip of Holden’s body, meeting the clipped thrusts with growing urgency. While one hand grips Holden’s hip, the other goes for his cock, calloused palm offering just the right amount of warmth and coarseness to push Holden towards the edge. 

Holden gasps, clutching at Bill’s wrist to ease the sudden pace of arousal burning through him. 

“No, wait. Wait.” He pants, slipping his eyes open to cast Bill a flustered gaze. 

Bill’s hand squeezes longingly around his cock, holding on for a few more moments before drifting away. His gaze reaches up to meet Holden's, the blue of his eyes burning like flares in the night; he wants to turn Holden down underneath him, fuck him senseless, but he’s holding back - that realization alone makes Holden’s blood surge and prickle as if alive with some new strain of pleasure. 

“Wait. Not yet.” Holden repeats, teeth scraping in frayed concentration against his lower lip. “I want your cock … I want it more.”

Bill’s nostrils flare with a staggered inhale. His hand is trembling as Holden laces his fingers between Bill’s, and pushes his palm up against his palm. Bill’s fingers curl over his knuckles, holding on tightly as Holden leans into the tension and uses it as a brace to keep his thrusting steady and deliberate. 

“Fuck, Holden …” He mutters, his eyes drifting down Holden’s writhing body with serene satisfaction. He clutches Holden’s hip in his other hand, urging the rhythm of his thrusts that are quickly evolving into something harder, faster, fraught with mounting need. 

“Oh, yes …” Holden pants, his head tilting back at the hot fuse of need that runs through his body. “Bill, yes …”

Muscles begin to burn, and sweat breaks out alone his temples, throat, and chest as the fevered, grinding thrusts persist. He ignores the minor discomforts, his thighs cramping, his skin flushing and slick beneath Bill’s grasp; he’s singly focused on the pleasure rising slowly in his belly, his groin clamping down tighter, but only incrementally. He could have helped it along with a simple stroke on his cock, but that isn’t what he wants. He wants this connection, the deep, raw friction of Bill’s cock making him orgasm from the inside out; he wants this moment of weakness parading behind strength, all of his insecurities muted and masked by an impulsive body that knows just what it wants even if the brain inside of him doesn’t. He wants Bill underneath him, submitting, in awe. And he wants his body pushed right up to the edge, too weary to go on, too tired to worry, too aroused for fight or flight. 

Pleasure swells, an overflowing riverbed wanting to drown him, but he pushes it back down with a strangled groan. Pausing his thrusts, he peeks down past half-shut eyes to see his cock standing hard against his belly, tip adorned with a pearly drop of pre-cum. His thighs are shuddering, nearly too taxed to continue, and his chest is glistening with sweat. The sensations crushing through him are almost too much to bear - or maybe just enough. 

Bill shifts underneath him, hand squeezing fervidly at Holden’s waist. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his gaze searching up through the semi-darkness of the room to cling to Holden’s flushed cheeks and gasping mouth. 

“Yes, fine.” Holden whispers, leaning down to kiss Bill’s lower lip. “It’s just your cock - you’re making me so weak.”

Bill grunts a quiet laugh. “Keep going. You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

Holden hums a pleased response as the quiet praise diffuses in his veins like powdery Valium. When he straightens, he feels his head tilt, right on the verge of dizzying satisfaction. His belly turns, pleasure creeping closer, muscles clamping down at the slightest coarse friction of Bill’s cock inside him. 

Bracing both hands against Bill’s heaving ribs, Holden shifts into a deeper, faster pace. He keeps his gaze fixed on Bill’s, feeding silent, yearning messages across the scarce space between them, into the silence that their gasping breaths and slapping, meeting skin cannot fill; there’s an underlying void just beneath this hedonistic pursuit, a quiet that he can’t shake, the hanging threat of a doom. It feels like Bill’s cock inside of him is the only thing holding him down, the only sign of life on his numb, drugged skin. He wants that feeling for as long as it can last, for as long as either of them can last before nature demands an expected end to their sweating, straining labors. 

Holden keeps going until his muscles burn and his body aches, until the river floods and he feels himself going under. All at once, his hand is moving of his own volition, remembering his swollen, untouched cock and his desperate, physical need. He takes it in his hand, rubbing feverishly, working orgasm free of his resistant body until he crumbles beneath the incoming tide. Bowing over Bill’s chest, he cries and surrenders. His cock jets copious release across Bill’s shuddering belly and chest, the milky heat of it coming and coming in dappling gushes that correspond with every clamping spasm of Holden’s body.

Bill’s hand clutches over his knuckles, urging the lingering shudders of orgasm to extend out into tender aftershocks. When Holden’s limp hand drifts away, he gathers up the wilting length to milk every last drop from him, until Holden is dry and shivering, overwhelmed by the sensation on his sensitized flesh. 

“Oh, fuck …” Holden pants, sinking forward to rest his forehead against Bill’s chest. 

He lays still except for the recurrent shivers rippling down his spine, triggered by the overload of adrenaline, need, sweat, release. He feels weak and helpless, all of the energy drained out of his body by the long, slow fuck, but Bill’s cock is still inside him, all hard and unfulfilled. 

Pushing himself upright against, Holden braces both trembling hands on Bill’s chest, and offers a trembling thrust down against the obtrusive thickness of Bill’s cock lodged inside his tender body. 

“Ohh …” He gasps. 

His body threatens to crumble at the first grinding thrust inside his newly sensitive hole, and Bill catches him by the elbows as he sits up. 

“No, it’s okay …” Holden pants, squeezing his eyes shut as he pushes back against Bill’s chest. “I can do it.”

Ignoring the tremulous claim, Bill wraps a secure arm around his waist, and turns them over onto the sheets with Holden underneath him. 

Holden struggles for only a few seconds before the weight of Bill’s hips come down against him, thrusting his cock deep inside, and pinning Holden to the mattress. He cries out softly, his eyes squeezing shut against the thrilling ache that ripples through his staggering, helpless body. 

Bill kisses him gently, one hand cradling his cheek while the other nudges his knee up against his chest. 

“Bill, ohh …” Holden whimpers, hips squirming beneath the pressure of Bill’s cock seating to his depths. 

“Shh,” Bill soothes, planting kisses on his trembling lower lip, his cheek, the shell of his ear. “I’ve got you.”

Holden wraps both arms around Bill’s neck as the whispered promise is followed by the steady rhythm of Bill’s hips finding a deep, slow pace against him. Their foreheads meet, and gasping breaths and groans share the small space between their mouths. Holden’s damp eyelids slip open to glimpse Bill’s eyes holding onto him, a quiet determination wrapping around him and soothing the tremble in his limbs like a warm blanket; and he lets himself sink into it, lets the fractured borders of his body and mind collapse into Bill’s steady intent, the clutch of his hands, the imprinting grind of his cock marking the inside of Holden’s body in a way no one else can. The roar of his mind quiets down, perhaps just too weary to go on, but he thinks it’s Bill’s gaze, his touch, his quiet yet powerful strength that’s making everything else disappear. He can’t think of Ed standing over him now that Bill’s weight is pinning down every numb, fleeting fiber of his body, rousing the sequestered parts to feel something good again. 

Closing his eyes, Holden lets go of his impatience and his straining; he hangs onto Bill’s shoulders and their firm strength until the steady pace of their joining bodies brings Bill’s pleasure to the surface. It isn’t explosive or loud or demanding as so many other trysts that have come before, but muted and ragged with quiet desperation, a low burning candle at last finding the end of the wick. 

Bill cradles the back of Holden’s neck with one hand while the other is pushed underneath of them to span the base of his spine, ensuring that Holden’s body stays close to him and absorbs the bone-deep tremors of orgasm. The hot splash of release comes in steady gushes that strike Holden again and again, each one drawing a staggered gasp from his throat. He presses his mouth to Bill’s sweat-damp shoulder, tasting his desperation and gauging the receding shivers of orgasm trembling through him. 

As Bill’s choked groans of climax taper off into heavy panting, he sinks down against Holden’s chest. His cock slides from the hot, slick recesses of Holden’s body, leaving them both limp and leaking against the sheets and each other. 

Holden opens his eyes to the ceiling faintly illuminated by lamplight. His body is humming and buoyant, trembling and tingling with the flush of racing blood and hormones. He can’t feel one specific part of his body, but more of a general buzz of satisfaction that goes down into his bones. He doesn’t think; he just feels - the weight of Bill’s body on top of him, the blissful drifting of sated pleasure, the hollow void inside his brain. 

When Bill moves, Holden’s eyes jolt open, and he realizes he had drifted off. 

Bill leans back on his heels with Holden’s thighs draped around his hips. He rubs a hand over Holden’s knee as his brow furrows with concentration anew. 

“What’s wrong?” Holden whispers. 

“Nothing.” Bill says, drawing Holden’s knee up by his calf so that he can press a kiss against it. 

“Are you glad you changed your mind about coming up?”

“What do you think?”

Holden bites his lower lip as Bill’s mouth plants a ring of warm kisses against the inside of his knee. He can’t complain about the evasive responses when that simple touch is quickly taking him apart again. His chest aches, and he thinks of asking Bill to stay the night - a request the logical half of his brain knows is impossible. He has to go home to Nancy after they get cleaned up. It’s already so late. 

“Come on,” Bill urges, giving his calf a squeeze. “We could both use a shower.”

Holden nods, and grudgingly pushes himself upright. 

Bill crawls off the bed, and offers his hand. As Holden climbs to his feet, the exhausted weakness in his legs strikes him, and he leans heavily Bill’s shoulder. 

“Oh, fuck.” He whispers, laughing in disbelief. 

“You okay?” Bill murmurs, his mouth tilting in a smile as he clutches Holden’s waist. 

“I can barely walk. I think I might need your help getting a bath.” He murmurs, casting Bill hopeful gaze from beneath his eyelashes. 

“Christ.” Bill says, angling for annoyance but ending up somewhere between amusement and resignation. “Come on, then.”

Keeping a secure arm around Holden’s waist, Bill leads them down the hall to the bathroom. While he runs the water in the shower and waits for it to get warm, Holden leans against the sink to relieve his trembling legs. 

“So,” He says, clearing his throat. “I guess we’re going to … you know, keep doing this.”

“Yeah,” Bill says, his expression guarded as he runs his fingers through the water jetting from the shower head. 

“I wasn’t sure.”

Bill nods for Holden to get into the shower, and Holden shuffles past him, trying to gauge his emotions in the few glimpses he can manage beyond the quickly rising walls of Bill’s defenses. 

Bill climbs in behind him, and pulls the door shut. The thrum of water hitting the shower base fills the silence. While Holden slips underneath the hot spray of the water, he leans against the tiled wall, his gaze tracking down the length of Holden’s slick body. 

Holden reaches for the shampoo bottle, but Bill catches him by the wrist. A quiet sound of surprise leaps up his throat as he’s reeled against Bill’s chest, wrapped up in strong arms. Bill kisses him soundly, wet fingers clutching at his jawline, the thud of his pulse. 

When their mouths break apart again, Holden pants softly, blinking against the water misting over their heads. Bill’s eyelashes are damp and lowered, his brow furrowed softly. 

“Seeing you in Vacaville …” He says, quietly, “I wasn’t sure either. But who the fuck was I kidding?”

Holden swallows hard, bracing his hands against the breadth of Bill’s slick chest. The hollow drum of the water fades to white noise, and all he can focus on is the hitch of Bill’s lungs under his hands, the tremor in his lips. 

“Holden, I need to know you won’t ever do something like that again.” Bill says, lifting his head to pin Holden with a stern gaze. 

Holden shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“This is a risk.” Bill says, nudging his hips. “You get that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I can’t have you going off all half-cocked. If I can’t trust you, it’s just a recipe for disaster. Understand?”

Holden nods. 

“Say it out loud.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Bill sighs, the crease between his brows melting slightly. His voice drops lower, to a whisper that’s barely audible above the water pressure. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Holden blinks against trickling water. He’s never heard Bill say aloud that he’s scared. He’d never thought he would be the reason for it. 

“I was scared, too.” He whispers. 

Bill kisses him on the mouth again before he clutches Holden’s nape and guides his head down against his shoulder. His arms tighten, silently saying more than even the bare honesty of the conversation could allow. 

Holden closes his eyes, and nestles his cheek closer to Bill’s shoulder. Neither of them speak again, but he can hear the apology underneath. Bill hadn’t meant to yell at him on the plane. He hadn’t meant to be mean or insensitive. He hadn’t meant to push Holden away; but fear does crazy things to people, even if they can’t admit it. It makes you reckless, and it makes you want to forget; but Holden doesn’t want to forget this moment. He wants to memorize it, immortalize it in his mind. Years from now, he doesn’t just want it to have the quality of memory, but the quality of something real that’s blooming deep inside his chest even if he can’t yet define it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!


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